


a warm heart to come home to

by ohlovelysunshine



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Crying, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Third Person, Panic Attacks, Pesterlog(s) (Homestuck), Texting, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:34:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26715292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohlovelysunshine/pseuds/ohlovelysunshine
Summary: dirk has a stressful day and locks himself in his room. his a.i. decides to bother him about his feelings.
Relationships: Auto-Responder | Lil Hal & Dirk Strider, Auto-Responder | Lil Hal/Dirk Strider
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	a warm heart to come home to

**Author's Note:**

> any1 who says tht dirkhal is str-d-r- or s-lfc-st gets hurt <3
> 
> also thres a lot f self-projection here especially in liek. dirks difficulty w cryin cuz our body has tht issue 2
> 
> (WAAAHUGHU I CANT ADD CUSTOM TAGS ON MOBILEEEEE)
> 
> \- lace

_slam._

dirk drops down on the bed, the plush covers making a muted _whomp_ sound as he lands ass-first before falling back entirely. his arms swing up to cover his face, fingers splayed out over tired orange eyes that glisten with unshed tears. he closes them, inhaling deeply—the crisp breath fills his lungs in a sparing moment of calm relief, yet the moment the air leaves his chest, the crushing emotional wave rips into him again. he makes a strangled noise; hardly a sob, but it conveys much of the same feelings.

he wants to cry so bad that it hurts. his body refuses, and he reaches up just to fist his hands in his hair, eyelids clenching shut tighter as the trapped teardrops scream for freedom. he’s nauseous, his ribs like a prison for his lungs rather than a protection with how hard it’s becoming to breathe. he rolls onto his side, eyes cracking open as he clutches his heaving chest—then, there, on the bedside table, he sees his shades flashing a red light in the corner.

hesitant, he sits up. he’s shaking—not a surprise, really, but it’s a hindrance when his trembling fingers damn near knock the sunglasses into oblivion (an exaggeration, though the floor _is_ currently an irreparable disaster). thankfully, he manages to pluck them off the table, nervously sliding them onto his face.

TT: Crying in front of the cameras? Smooth, bro. Your ratings are soaring, the paparazzi is gettin’ physical with the haters that put you down. It’s total fuckin’ bloodshed, man, guts everywhere over just that itty pinprick of tears. It’s a gruesome battle—would you like to make comment on this show of brutal loyalty, Mr. Strider?

a humored smile tugs at the corner of his lips, but he forces himself to scoff. hal’s bullshit is the last thing he wants lightening his mood, if only to preserve the remnants of his faltering dignity. “shut up,” he puffs out, leaning back into the pillows behind him, knees pulled to his chest. the responding flash of red text carries far more sincerity than the first.

TT: What’s got you so broken up, dude? I haven’t seen you this fuckin’ close to tears since… well, quite a while. Hell, you haven’t even properly _cried_ for well over a year, to my knowledge.

dirk bites his lip, finding no response to deflect the query—so he merely avoids it by sitting in silence.

TT: C’mon, are you really holding out on your numbro one and only A.I. brain copy? Buryin’ all those thoughts in the down-deep isn’t getting you anywhere, Dirk. You’re just making things worse for yourself by bottling it up.

TT: That’s scientific fact, by the way. Not just my word.

dirk wants to grit out an irritated _i know_ from between his clenched teeth—but now that he’s started with the silent treatment, he oughta commit to it. hal can’t pester him forever, after all.

TT: Dirk.

_but he sure can try._

TT: For Christ’s sake, at least say _something_.

dirk growls; otherwise, he provides no answer.

TT: Dirk.

TT: Please.

he stiffens, caught off-guard by the brief use of the word—it feels unnatural coming from hal, but he can’t deny its genuinity. he blinks a few times, as though the message will vanish once he closes his eyes for even a second. it doesn’t, of course, and he stares at it blankly, now at a true loss for words.

TT: Look, I may not show it, but…

TT: I care about your dumbfuck ass, okay?

TT: (Shockingly enough. I guess the self-loathing didn’t carry over like that, huh?)

TT: Just talk to me. No matter how fuckin’ much I tease you about every little thing you do and say and think, I know when to shut my goddamn trap and be a good friend.

 _friend?_ is… that what they are? is that what hal wants them to be? what _dirk_ wants them to be? something about it feels strangely misplaced—yet dirk doesn’t think it’s out of any spite. so is it founded in some… deep desire to make it more than that?

heat rushes to his face before he can gain his composure properly, but it’s soon overcome by the memories and emotions associated with what hal was asking of him. the crushing pain in his abdomen bounces back twofold, and he curls in on himself much further than he already, quaking. finally, the tears begin to fall, and he finds himself stumbling through a shaky explanation of what had happened in the hours before now.

“i-i fuckin’—” he sobs and tilts his shades up to wipe his eyes. “i j-just—i wanted to t-tell jake how i fffelt, a-and—fuck, i-i-i fucked it up ssso—s-so _bad_ , h-hhhal, what w-was i even _d-doing_ … i ki-kissed him, i wwwasn’t _thi-thinkinnng_ , h-he—he fr-frrreaked out and he p-pu-pusheddd me—pushed me o-off, s-said i was just—just—ju-huuust…” he stops and wails, feeling once more as though his heart is shattering in his chest.

TT: He said you were just a good friend?

dirk nods, brushing tears away with his palms again, then quickly cleaning the shades with a tissue pulled from a box on the nightstand so hal’s messages aren’t blurred by the liquid.

TT: It’s okay, Dirk.

TT: I know, it hurts like all fuckin’ hell as if some fuck hole-punched your heart a thousand times then dipped it in salt water, but it’ll be okay.

TT: It isn’t the end of the world, dude.

TT: Maybe it feels like the end of yours—it’s not.

TT: You still have friends, Dirk. This isn’t the sudden termination of all your relationships—not even with Jake. It might hurt to hear it right now, but give it a few weeks and the whole shebang’ll probably be rotting in the recesses of his mind.

TT: Yeah, that’s painful because it makes it look insignificant, but it’s better for the both of you in the end. Having to suffer the awkwardness and tension in long-term would be far more awful, trust me.

TT: Right now, rather than mope around, I’m counting on you to get up, get a glass of water, maybe a snack if you can stomach it. Take care of yourself, Dirk—it’s what you need and deserve. I’m always here and you know that well enough.

TT: I may be your annoying bitchprick AI, but that doesn’t mean I make my sole purpose annoying you and everyone else—I’ve got the whole internet at the tips of my incorporeal brobofingers, so I’ll spam you with positivity quotes and self-care guides 24/7 if I have to.

dirk is silent throughout the entirety of hal’s monologue, his physical reactions limited, though the feelings underneath certainly change and mix about several times. when it seems the a.i. is finished, he utters a soft _thank you_ and gets to his feet with the intent of heading to the kitchen, cheeks now slowly drying. he considers discarding his eyewear, but another line of red stops him.

TT: I love you, Dirk.

he finds himself unable to form a proper response—at least not aloud. so he offers it by his own text.

TT: I love you too.

his heart feels a bit warmer.

**Author's Note:**

> ths is lowkey rushed (t least the second half) so if like. any1 notices typos, runon senetnces, wrod overuse, html fukcups, eyc. let us kno
> 
> said rushin also conyributes 2 possible ooc writin,, n sumtimes its hard 2 wriet chars accurtaely when u have a multitude f diffwren versions of em tht are wildly unalike 2 each othr runnin arnd ur head lmao
> 
> srry abt my ~nasty chatsepak~ n typso im a dirk tht types like roxy


End file.
